Large, 28 inch by 22 inch poster versions of select popular works of photographic art by award-winning landscape photographer Alan Cring of Emergent Light Studio.
Each poster is produced on premium HP Professional Gloss Photo Paper and personally signed on the front by the photographer.
Posters are shipped via USPS Priority Mail® in the United States and via First-Class Package International Service™ outside the US.
Alan Cring is an award-winning landscape photographic artist. His company is Emergent Light Studio. He is also a professor of finance at Illinois State University.
Alan's work as a photographic artist can be found on his Website at alancring.com, which features beautiful landscape photographs, articles he has written about his work, and links to his online store for prints, books, calendars, and other items.
Recent media articles about Alan Cring's photography:
Select articles by Alan Cring about his work as a photographer:
A selection of Alan's artwork is on permanent exhibit at Behind the Glass Gallery & Studio, 315 N. Main St., Bloomington, Illinois, and prints can be purchased online at London-based Artfinder. Exhibitions and displays of his work can be also be seen at arts festivals in the Midwest. Go to his profile page at Artfinder to see his up-coming schedule.
Christmas cards featuring Emergent Light Studio photographic art.
Photographs that have appeared in articles about Emergent Light Studio
Beautiful, large (14.5" x 22.5") 2018 Emergent Light Studio wall calendar on premium glossy card stock, spiral-bound, with each month featuring a season-themed photograph by award-winning prairie landscape photographer Alan Cring, owner of Emergent Light Studio.
Sometimes I drive or walk for hours to find the scenes I photograph. Usually, I have no idea where I will go, but I know it must be someplace where not very many people spend time. It has to be a place where the persistent loneliness that has become my consort emerges as a way of seeing what is beyond me, especially what is beyond me that is alone, too.
Inanimate structures begin to speak, to tell stories; trees that are nothing but curious intrusions to passers-by become the unassuming grace of stark landscapes; fields of majestic wind turbines become towering dancers against fiery sunset horizons.
I am, then, not alone anymore.